Of course, I leave that part out as I recap the story for my mother, who is hanging on my every word at this point.
And as far as the internet thing was concerned, I had to admit my alter-ego was helping me stay away from junk food. I guess I just needed something to keep my brain and hands occupied. I’d been reading a lot of articles about social networking, media and technology, and modern communication on Google Scholar, loading up my iPad with links and notes, and trying out new ways to connect with people.
Olivia joined some groups too. One for horseback riders, one for lovers of French cuisine, another for models with acting aspirations. There really is something for everyone on Facebook. I bet my actual profile might benefit from joining some groups or “liking” a few things here or there. If nothing else, at least this sociology experiment would teach me a thing or two about social networking. It couldn’t be all bad, right?
Not that this project wasn’t without its bad points too, or at least, its unsavory ones. I had to repress my gag reflex that night as I navigated through a string of distasteful conversation openers in my message box. Highlights included:
“You’re so hot! How old are you?”
“Please post more photos… wearing less clothing!”
“You look familiar… Did I meet you at the Playboy mansion that one time?”
Please, people. Disgusting, unimaginative, and just downright wrong. When guys think you’re gorgeous, is this how they talk to you? Having never fielded a pick-up line before, either online or in person, I didn’t really have a frame of reference. I took note of the comments, deleted the messages so I didn’t barf on my keyboard, and let the mouse hover over Sean’s picture on my Friends list.
I knew I shouldn’t be talking to him, because it was too risky and totally unfair to him. But compared to the other guys whose comments I’d just barely been able to read while keeping my lunch in my stomach, Sean was so different. He didn’t belong grouped in with these losers. But it had been so long since we’d known each other... How could I really know what kind of person he was? You could be anyone you wanted to be online. And with me being such a poser myself, who was I to judge?
More importantly, who was I to try to start something with a guy like Sean?
Like the weather in New England, my resolve wavered easily from extreme to extreme. If I gave myself enough time, I knew I’d change my mind. Sure enough, as I updated my real profile photo that night with a shot of me and Claire from the previous weekend, I found I couldn’t stop staring at myself. Sure, I still had a long way to go, but the Jennifer Smith in this picture was starting to look different. She was starting to shape up a little, smile some more. She was getting closer and closer every day to that airbrushed photo of Olivia. I got a chill just thinking about how much closer and closer I was inching toward this ideal.
So when Sean messaged me again that evening, I could only blame the false bravado my changing appearance gave me for my actions. It had been a while since we’d spoken, and I couldn’t be sure if he’d lost interest or if he was being cautious around me because I’d come across as too casual. Knowing nothing about flirting etiquette or how to keep a man’s attention, I was at a total loss. Message him? Post on his wall? Leave him alone?
I had no idea what I was doing. So, just for a moment, I imagined myself as Claire and tried to figure out how she would handle a situation like this. She, I knew from experience, would do something simple to reignite contact and, thus, interest. Then an idea hit me.
Carefully, I scrolled through some of Sean’s recent pictures from his visit to his sister’s place in California. Sean on the beach, in a bathing suit, shirtless, tanned and glistening and… Yeah, this wasn’t exactly helping me to focus. I clicked through a few more until I spotted an innocuous picture of him with his arm around a girl that I took to be his sister and “liked” it.
There… now he’d know I visited his profile, seen his pictures, and cared enough to click a button. What did that mean, exactly? To me, not a whole lot. But given my experiences with others online, it could be considered a big deal if you were waiting to hear from someone. Satisfied, although a bit puzzled by social networking culture, I decided to step away from his profile before something bad happened and I screwed things up for me… er, Olivia.
Man, dating is hard.
I sighed and closed my laptop. It was time to get going anyway. I didn’t want to be late for my workout. A statement, which, as I thought it, just sounded plain bizarre inside of my head.
****
I met Claire, as usual, in front of Tom’s Workout World. She had been an angel during the previous three weeks of exercise, joining me for every one of my thrice weekly workouts. Of course, she was already so toned before we started that these workouts were just maintenance for her, but it was really nice to have a sweat buddy. And Claire was a nice enough sister never to boast about how many more sit-ups she could do than I could.
When we walked inside, it was the first time that we weren’t greeted at the front desk by Tom. Instead, another familiar face smiled at us. I hadn’t forgotten about Noah, but I hadn’t really talked to him in a couple of weeks. I’d begun to think it was a fluke that he’d even talked to me at all and pushed it from my mind. That day, however, I was feeling good about my 10 pound weight loss, my newfound cardio endurance, and my hot workout clothes. Well, they were kinda hot, anyway. As hot as Jennifer Smith can manage, anyway.
“Hey Noah,” I smiled back at him, determined to exude confidence in every word and movement. If Claire was surprised about this at all, she didn’t let on.
“Good to see you again.”
I nodded to him then introduced my sister as though Noah and I were old pals. Yeah, we went way back… a whole three weeks.
“Where’s Tom today?” Claire finally asked, once the introductions were over. I glanced around the gym but saw no sign of the hard-muscled owner. When my eyes found their way back to Claire’s face, I noticed the concern wound through her features.
“He took a few days off this week. Some family stuff or something,” Noah shrugged, oblivious to my sister’s worried grimace.
“Well, I hope everything’s okay,” I offered, more for Claire’s benefit than for Noah’s.
“I’m sure it is. He didn’t seem upset.” Noah stepped out from behind the desk and gestured toward the treadmills. “Shall we?”
While Claire seemed reluctant to comply, I was beside myself with glee. Finally, I was getting the chance to work with a trainer who wasn’t a maniac with a multiple-personality disorder. If Noah was as calm as I’d seen him demonstrate with his other clients before, I might actually take some enjoyment from the day’s activities. It also didn’t hurt that I feel like I was betraying my sister by staring at my trainer’s ass.
Speaking of which, Noah’s was even better than Tom’s. I didn’t know that was even possible.
We jumped right into some cardio and I found myself motivated to do even more mileage today than normal. As expected, working out with Noah was a lot like working out with Tom, except that I found myself to be in a much, much better mood. He didn’t have a weird vein bulging out of his forehead. He didn’t spit in my face every time he screamed. In fact, he didn’t really scream that much at all. I guess I didn’t give him much of a reason to scream at me, since I was pushing myself harder than I ever had before. Claire, on the other hand, seemed to be doing the bare minimum. And still, Noah’s attention was fixed on me.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t really mind being the center of someone’s attention at all. Not if it was going to keep me on point and help me shed these extra pounds. This was the kind of attention I knew better than to let bother me. Almost in a trance, I let him direct me from the treadmill to the weight lifting area and got to work.
“Come on, Jen, fifteen more. You can do this. One! Two!” He spoke loudly enough for me to hear above the weight machine without screaming. I’d long since forgotten that, with my hair in
a ponytail, he could probably see my hearing aids. It was nice not to be thinking about them for a change.
“Come on! Three, four…” The sound of Noah’s voice counting out my reps provided the focus my tired muscles needed.
I pushed through with a fiery burst of energy. I had no idea where it came from, but I used it to my advantage, ignoring the burning sensation in my muscles, reveling in the thought of being sexy enough to actually date a guy like Sean O’Dwyer someday. As I hit six, then seven reps, I watched Noah in front of me, his eyes transfixed on my arms, studying my form. He was going to be the one to help me do this, not Tom.
Eight, nine. Aside from the hot, hot, smoldering hot body, Noah is actually a really good looking guy. That’s not always the case with these gym rat types, you know. But he’s got those crazy dimples and these really bright blue eyes that I couldn’t stop staring into. Noah keeps his hair fairly short in a style that seems appropriate, given his career, and it’s a nice sandy, brown color that works well with his medium skin tone.
Ten. I also appreciated that he didn’t seem to be the type of guy to spend hours in a tanning bed or something, just someone with a naturally moderate skin pigment. Eleven. Like he had Italian or Greek or something mixed into his lineage.
Twelve. Totally normal, totally natural. Except for the fact that his muscles were… gigantic.
As I had the thought, my eyes were already making their full scope exploration of my trainer’s body. He was so focused on counting out my reps that he, fortunately, did not seem to notice me molesting him with my eyes. Thirteen, fourteen. It was totally not something I should have been doing, ogling my trainer like that, but it was helping me stay focused in some really twisted way. Noah was not the kind of guy I could ever see myself with, not like your Average-Joe kind of hunk like Sean, but there was no harm in a fantasy, was there? Not if it helped me stay motivated.
Fifteen. And all too soon, my eye candy party was over.
“Okay, ladies, take five minutes,” Noah clapped once as we finished. “Nice job.”
“A break?” Claire snapped, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Tom doesn’t give us breaks.”
“With all due respect, Tom’s not your trainer today.” Although Noah delivered the words with a smile, they felt no less lethal. “I like to do my workouts a little differently, if that’s all right with you.”
I nodded to him, a little embarrassed by Claire’s behavior. As soon as Noah was out of earshot, I rounded on her.
“What the heck was that?”
“What?” She scowled at me, tossing my towel at my head.
“Hey!” I grabbed it just before it hit my face. “What is your problem today?”
“Nothing. Can’t a girl be in a bad mood for once?” She unscrewed the cap of her water bottle and downed half of it in one gulp. I glared at her, hands on my hips, until she was finished.
“You’re never in a bad mood, Claire. Not unless something is bothering you.”
“So, something’s bothering me. What difference does it make to you?” Claire snapping at you is a lot like one of those box turtles that live around ponds in the New England area. Once, on our way home, my mother got out of the car to help a little one cross the road without getting hit by a car. As thanks, it tried to take her pinky finger off. That was the first time I ever heard the expression, “No good deed goes unpunished, girls.”
I spotted Noah heading back toward us, so I had to at least get the snapping to cease for the rest of our workout.
“Listen, Groucho Marx,” I told her, imitating her firm and commanding authoritative voice as best as I could manage. “Just be nice to Noah for the rest of the session and we’ll talk about this later.”
“Fine.” She almost spit the word at me, but I let it go, turning to Noah instead for our next instructions. He had peeled off his sweatshirt while he was gone, leaving more of himself open for ogling. The rest of my workout was a breeze.
****
I dragged Claire out for coffee after we finished working with Noah. Not wanting to risk her driving off if we got into our separate cars, I wound my arm through hers and marched straight across the street to this little diner we’d never been to. It was rundown, but clean, and we chose the booth with the least amount of wear and tear for our heart-to-heart sister time. A waitress, who looked like she’d just stepped out of the cab of a tractor trailer, took our order for two cups of coffee, and shuffled off to pour them. As soon as the java had hit the table, I allowed Claire no additional time to stall. I wouldn’t let her deny me the information I needed to put the pieces together any longer.
“What’s going on with you and Tom?”
With the mug halfway to her lips, Claire froze, her mouth agape. I waited for her to respond, but instead she snapped her mouth shut and stared at me.
“Come on. I’m your sister, Claire. I know you too well to buy any lie you’re going to try to sell me.” I paused, but still she wouldn’t budge. “I noticed something was up the first time you brought me there. You two were practically having sex with your eyes the entire time.”
She moved her coffee cup back to the table, spilling a little bit over the rim. Still she wouldn’t speak, just kept her eyes on me and her mouth firmly closed.
“You totally slept with him, didn’t you?”
“Jen!”
“A-ha! I knew I could get you to talk!” I grinned and took a sip of my own coffee—black with no sugar and, consequently, no calories—to celebrate my success. “So did you do it or not?”
“I’m not going to talk about this with you in some diner, okay?” Even as she was half-heartedly trying to skirt the issue, I could see her cheeks reddening.
“Ooh, Claire!” I poked her in the arm a few times, and then whispered a little chant. “You did your trainer! You did your trainer!”
“Cut it out!” She batted my hand away before raising her mug to her lips to drink her first sip of coffee. Mostly, I think she just wanted to hide behind something for a few seconds.
“All right, fine,” I said, sobering my tone a little. “But you have to tell me all the juicy details. And then we’ll talk about what the heck was up your butt today.”
“I don’t like that Noah guy, Jen,” she said, coming out from behind her mug to catch my eye. “He looks at you weird.”
“I look at him weird,” I shrugged. It was true; no point trying to hide it from my sister. Maybe if I led by example, she’d show me the same courtesy. “He’s just a trainer, anyway. I’m not interested in him. And he makes me work hard. I like that.”
“I just don’t think we should workout with him anymore, okay?”
“Why, so we can work out with your lover boy?” I teased.
She delivered her death stare with surprising acuteness for someone so flushed.
“Oh please. It’s just a workout,” I said. Her burst of laughter caught me off guard. I straightened up in my seat and caught her eye. “What do you think is going to happen, anyway?”
Claire’s eyebrows went up. “Seriously?”
“What? Like I’m going to go sleep with him in the locker room after my workout for the day, burn some extra calories?” I started to laugh it off, until I noticed the shift in Claire’s expression. The red cheeks were back, her gaze had zoomed elsewhere, and she was biting her bottom lip.
“Shut. Up. You did not do that… Did you?” I had to force myself not to yell out the words in the middle of the nearly empty diner. To express my total exasperation, I slapped her hand.
“Ouch!” Claire kept her eyes on the table, rubbing the back of her hand. “I… may have.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Oh, Claire,” I shook my head, sliding back against my seat cushion. “That is so freaking awesome.”
“So glad you approve…” she droned, rolling her eyes. My sister’s habit of sliding into ‘sarcastic teenager’ mode when embarrassed had not changed since high school. It drives my mother absolutely c
razy, while I have learned how to remain impervious.
“I mean, he’s really hot. And he seems like the kind of guy who—”
Claire shot up straight in her seat, her eyes locked in on my own. “Who what?”
Socially Awkward Page 7